


Not Yet

by naboru



Series: Blast Off/Vortex Advent Calendar [24]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action, Dark, Fluff, Gen, Implied Masochism, Injury, M/M, Plug'n'Play (for non sexual reasons)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’re turbulence during re-entry, and Blast Off and Vortex almost die. They later have to cope with the aftermath.</p><p>Blast Off, Vortex / action, fluff, dark, severe injuries, implied masochism, plug’n’play (for not sexual reasons) / PG-13</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ultharkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/gifts).



> **Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)), season 3 on Chaar  
>  **Warnings:** action, fluff, dark, severe injuries, implied masochism, plug’n’play (for not sexual reasons)  
>  **Characters:** Vortex, Blast Off  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

Blast Off had been weird the last few cycles of their journey.

He’d been quiet. This itself wasn’t unusual, but the shuttle almost always snapped when Vortex annoyed him, when the ‘copter pushed buttons on the control console or tapped with his foot repeatedly on the floor.

This time, Blast Off had merely shut down most functions of his control console and had gone into recharge, or standby mode, Vortex didn’t know what the difference was.

Only shortly before re-entry and landing on Chaar, Blast Off woke up.

“You’re annoying when you’re grumpy,” Vortex said as soon as he noticed the onboard cameras activating.

“Just be quiet,” Blast Off replied. He sounded tired with a hint of static, and made Vortex frown. “Put the seatbelt on. I’m going to initiate re-entry in 1.06 klicks.”

Defiantly, Vortex crossed his arms, and leant back in the co-pilot’s seat. He had no intention of doing what he was told. Before now he’d never needed a seatbelt when Blast Off entered an atmosphere. Sure, it was a wild ride with lots of shaking and vibrations, but it was fun.

“Re-entry in 0.42 klicks. Please, Vortex put your seatbelt on.”

Vortex raised an optical ridge. The shuttle’s voice was odd, but he still didn’t move. If Blast Off had chosen to ignore him before, then Vortex would pay him back in kind.

There was sighing over the speakers, but nothing else was said.

The view outside changed when Blast Off turned, his nose facing the planet. A few moments later the shaking began, and the first red glow of plasma appeared on the lower edge of the front window. Soon it’d blend out everything else and make it appear as though the shuttle was on fire.

Vortex tensed, and clenched his jaw so as not to bite his glossa.

The glow in the window increased, but it wasn’t even. At the right side of the window, the flames grew bigger.

Tipping his head to a side, the ‘copter wondered if something was wrong.

Only a few astroseconds later his worry was proven to be true. A staticky keen could be heard from onboard speakers, and Vortex slid on his seat a little to the right; his hip touched the edge.

//Thrusters?// Vortex commed, because he didn’t trust himself to speak being shaken like that. He didn’t get an answer. Glancing up at the cameras, he noticed they were offline.

A clinking came weirdly loud through the noise of vibrating metal, and Vortex looked in front of him.

The window appeared odd, and when he stood up to investigate it, he realised the ground was slanted. He didn’t think much of it right then, just when the clinking sound repeated and he was sure he’d seen some object hitting the window, Vortex began to feel uneasy.

//Hey, Thrusters? You all right?//

Again, there was no reply as the situation got worse. The ground shifted even more, and Vortex clutched at the control console so as not to fall over from the sudden movement. The window glass creaked and cracked, and the loud speakers announced static.

From the window frame to the middle the glass sprung, and Vortex knew this couldn’t mean anything good.

More worrisome sounds followed from metal and glass, and Vortex tensed further. His grip around the console’s edge tightened and he tried his comm again, though this time he couldn’t even reach the other’s frequency.

Vortex didn't expected what happened next, least of all for the window to break.

Glass fragments flew around him, hit him, and it hurt. It was only a fraction of an astrosecond before the shock of air pressure swallowed him, and threw him against the rear wall.

Plasma flames licked inside, over the buttons and switches and screens on the control console, and made the metal glow. It smelled burnt, but Vortex could hardly process the information. The air pressure kept him in place while it destroyed his visor, and the force broke his joints. Hydraulic fluid and coolant were pressed into the back-most areas of his body. It didn’t leak out, even though he felt his lines burst.

Vortex’ vision blurred. The seats in the cockpit were only silhouettes in front of a dangerously red background.

It was loud.

It was hot.

In this state, a klik seemed like a vorn.

After that, the air became cooler, the noises less aggressive. There was still the static of speakers, which cut through Vortex’ dizzy mind and caused an alarming sickness. The pressure’s force decreased slowly – before the cold hit Vortex like a punch.

He dropped to the ground with a loud clang, but the additional pain wasn’t noticeable within the already incredible amount of aching.

Blast Off had transformed around him, and Vortex hadn’t even noticed.

The shuttle stood in root mode a few mechanometers away, swaying as though his equilibrium chip was malfunctioning. He gripped something on his right wrist, then ripped off his own heat shield.

Vortex would have shuddered, but he couldn’t move at all. His neck joint was broken, along with almost every other joint in his frame. His lines were torn, and now, without a force keeping them in place, the fluids dripped out. He was dizzy, and sick. His optical input flickered as he perceived how Blast Off came closer, stumbling slowly, until his legs gave in.

He collapsed in front of him with a loud clatter.

The shuttle was so close, his body scorched and radiating heat.

Blast Off had stopped moving, but his optics were still online. They alternately dimmed and flickered and brightened.

//Blast Off?// Vortex tried again via comm – his vocaliser was torn apart, too - but he knew from the gestalt bond that the shuttle was in stasis. It also told him that he was still alive, if only barely.

And there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t call for help with his long range communication system offline, and Blast Off’s purple optics still glowed. It wouldn’t have been so unsettling if they’d been dark.

Another imagined vorn ticked by in which Vortex tried to edge closer, but all the managed was a twitch of his rotor hub.

When finally there was some other noise than the wind and the pings of metal cooling down, Vortex was already so dizzy, he thought they were an hallucination.

Something green and purple entered his field of vision, and he heard voices through the mist of crawling oblivion.

“Hurry! We need to empty his tanks before the heat makes the energon unstable!” It was Hook, or maybe Scrapper, Vortex couldn’t tell, but he’d relax if there was tension left in his frame.

Only to tense again at the next words.

“His tanks are empty-“

You stupid, arrogant idiot, Vortex thought about his team mate before exhaustion and severe damage claimed his consciousness.

\---

The air in the medbay on Chaar was dry and dusty. It was so very different from the one back on the Nemesis where you could have smelled the ocean even in the shielded rooms.

Vortex snuck along the hallway of the barely repaired building which housed the current medbay. He moved as quietly as he could with his metal feet on the concrete floor. The dirt and dust on the ground helped to dampen his steps.

Fortunately, the Constructicons weren’t there, Vortex knew, because it wasn’t the first time he’d done this. The medics wouldn’t have liked to see him back there when he'd been released only a half cycle ago.

All his joints and lines had been repaired, and only a stiff soreness reminded him of the crash.

The door opened with a swoosh, incredibly loud in the silence of the corridor.

He corrected himself inwardly. His own stiff soreness was a reminder, as was his team mate lying still on the medbay berth. 

Blast Off looked horrible. His damage was mostly repaired, but his plating was still scorched, and his heat shield on the arms and back was partly ripped off.

Vortex hadn’t really understood what had happened, or how it happened. Onslaught had told him that they’d only survived because Chaar had such a thin atmosphere. Otherwise, they’d have burned up.

Blast Off had lost control, had been at the wrong angle as he entered the atmosphere and tiles had come loose. They had been the reason for the broken window – or at least that was what Scrapper and Hook guessed.

This didn’t mean much to Vortex. For him, the pain of air pressure and glass fragments were an uncomfortable memory. Not because of the pain itself, but because of his gestalt program screaming in agony.

The uneasiness still lingered, even increased at the sight of Vortex’ damaged team mate.

Once the door closed behind him, the ‘copter didn’t bother to be quiet any more. He knew Blast Off was awake. Taking one of the chairs in the room, Vortex put it next to the occupied berth and sat down.

“Hey there,” he said more cheerfully than he felt. “How’s it going?”

Optics still offline, Blast Off raised an optical ridge. It was weird to see it without the cover of the purple visor.

“I won’t be going anywhere any time soon,” the shuttle answered, his voice hoarse from a vocaliser that still needed to fully integrate.

Vortex’ gestalt program twinged at that.

They’d been there before. Blast Off lying in medbay after a crash, and Vortex sitting there, but it hadn’t been as bad as it was now. The worry hadn’t been so prominent, and Vortex wondered what the difference was. Maybe because he’d been there with Blast Off when it happened?

“Yeah, and guess who’s fault it is,” Vortex responded, making it sound like a joke even though he didn’t feel like it. “You’re really something, flying around in space under-energised.”

Blast Off’s optics flickered online, and he turned his head a little. He didn’t answer, and after a few moments Vortex thought he wouldn’t reply at all and might ignore the ‘copter for stating the truth.

The shuttle heaved air deeply, and said, his jaw joint clenching, “It’s not as though we had much fuel…”

“Maybe, but you could have asked if I had something, you know?” Vortex added.

“Sure, and you would have given me high grade. You think flying around in space drunk is better than under-energised?”

It was true that Vortex had only had some high grade with him, but it wasn’t about that. The shuttle just should have _asked_ and put some trust in Vortex, or if not that, he shouldn't have tried to take on things all alone. Again.

All this insular behaviour and acting as though he didn’t need them made Vortex angry. He understood why Brawl was so frustrated by them sometimes.

Vortex just opened his mouth to set about a good talking-to when Blast Off continued.

“I’m sorry.” He looked back, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t mean this to happen.”

Vortex clamped down on his words, and sighed. “Yeah, okay. But you better say you'll ask for fuel next time and _mean_ it.” He couldn’t really be angry when it was such an event that Blast Off apologised.

The shuttle puffed a tired but amused huff from his vents. “Next time, I’ll ask for fuel.”

“Heh, good.” Vortex grinned. “I don’t allow you to die. A world without you would be total crap. It’d be really boring.”

“Hmpf, yeah. A world without you would be boring, too. But unlike you, I like boring.”

“Aft-head,” Vortex said, but didn’t mean it.

“Hm,” Blast Off laughed softly.

They grew quiet for a moment in which Blast Off offlined his optical sensors again.

“How are you?” Blast Off asked all of a sudden, and the worried voice took Vortex off-guard.

Their worry, their caring and interest, even the shuttle’s apology, it was only because of the gestalt program. It most likely prodded Blast Off with all this empathy as much as Vortex’ did. And yet, even knowing that, it was nice to have Blast Off actually care. 

“I’m good. Still sore and stuff, but at least I can move around. How about you? I mean, you’re the one still laying here in medbay.”

An idle shuttle engine growled in an unhealthy tune. Blast Off didn’t reply.

Slaggin’ moody shuttle couldn’t take a joke, Vortex thought, and crossed his arms on the edge of the berth, leaning his chin on them.

“It’s not my fault you’re grumpy,” he said, and added with a prolonged sigh, “I’m asking honestly, how are _you_?” The memory of Blast Off crashing in front of him with his optics dim made Vortex still uncomfortable.

Stupid gestalt program. Stupid shuttle.

“I’m repaired. Self-repair has to take care of the rest and still needs to complete the integration of a few lines. Till then I have to stay here since they can’t fill my hydraulic mechanisms right now,” Blast Off answered exhaustedly, and Vortex knew there was more to it.

“And what else?” he wanted to know.

The ‘copter almost expected a counter question, but there was more silence for about a klick before Blast Off added reluctantly. “I’m tired. I can’t recharge well.”

At least the shuttle seemed to be telling the truth.

Vortex perked up. “Huh? Mulling over the crash?”

There was the slightest twitch of shoulders. “No, not really. I’ve been there. It’s just… difficult to settle down.”

Blast Off always left so many things go unsaid, and sometimes it was even hard for Vortex to read between the lines. Considering the injuries, and that the shuttle still couldn’t move, he asked, “Still in pain?”

A huff from the shuttle, a mixture of bitterness and amusement. “You could say that.”

Slowly, Vortex raised one arm, his index and middle finger stroked carefully over the still scorched metal of the hip joint. “I could change that…”

Blast Off vented deeply. “I’m in no condition to interface, please stop.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Vortex sat up while his hand lazily traced towards the interface panel. “I mean, we'd have to connect, but…”

The purple optics flickered online. “Vortex, seriously-“

“Blast Off, seriously,” Vortex interrupted, imitating the other. He raised himself enough to look in the bare optics and his covered face. It was good that at least the battle mask was there. It was familiar.

“I can make you feel better and get you some rest.”

“Vector Sigma,” Blast Off muttered to himself, his head rolling to a side to avoid Vortex’ gaze. He sighed, and faced the ‘copter again. “You won’t leave me alone anyway, will you?”

“Heh, what do you think?”

“Fine, whatever. If the damage gets worse, it’s your fault. It’s not as though I can fight back right now.”

Vortex stopped himself from beaming, and stood up without appearing too joyful – hopefully. “Okay, open up and make some room.”

“Subtle,” the shuttle murmured, but the interface panel opened with a soft click. He didn’t move, though. Vortex guessed he actually couldn’t.

“Can I touch you to move you a little so I can lie down, too?”

Blast Off turned his head, optical ridge raised. “You just asked me to open my interface cover. I am not sure if you mean this question seriously.”

“Oh, c’mon. I just want you to know that I still respect your boundaries,” Vortex said with a grin.

“Since when? Please remind me of a time when you ever did that.” But Blast Off’s voice wasn’t angry.

“So, that wasn’t a no?” Vortex ignored the question and actually wanted to know if Blast Off wouldn’t be too put off by being moved. While the ‘copter enjoyed pain, he wasn’t really fond of Blast Off shooting him as his first action after being able to move again. 

The shuttle’s vents exhaled a sigh. “Like I said, it’s not that I can do anything against it. But I can’t stop feeling like you’re taking advantage of my situation.” 

“Maybe just a little,” Vortex replied, before he nudged Blast Off carefully, so he thought, closer to the edge.

“Guess it’ll have to work that way,” the ‘copter mused, and Blast Off “hmpfed” in response. 

For outsiders, it had to look pretty bizarre how Vortex climbed on the berth while trying to rearrange himself to lay comfortably and attempting not to fall off at the same time. In the end, he lay on his side, pressing against the shuttle. His rotors, the hub and a good part of one leg and his aft were in the air – there was no room for them on the berth.

“You could just have taken one of the other berths and put it next to this one…” Blast Off commented drily, and his joints tensed as much as it was possible in his state.

“But it’s not as comfy.” Vortex shuffled even closer, and searched for the shuttle’s cable at the panel.

“You’re hopeless.”

Ignoring the statement, the ‘copter took the other’s plug and clicked it into place. His own connector slid into Blast Off’s port with another swift movement, and both engines revved, vents hitching simultaneously at the impact of the combiner program activating. Systems synched, and data was exchanged, but without any surplus electricity to raise significant charge.

The meaningless pings of data morphed into more coherent information, and Vortex hindered himself from gasping in surprise and worry.

He got status reports of all of Blast Off’s systems. Some didn’t mean anything to him, but when he saw how far Blast Off’s energy and laser core had dropped, the dread from when they’d crashed came back.

Blast Off’s laser core worked at only 19 percent.

The shuttle was right when he’d said he was in no state for an interface. An overload would probably kill him.

“So,” Blast Off uttered with a strained voice, and dragged Vortex out of his worried musings. “And what is the reason you wanted us to connect?”

It was good the shuttle couldn’t move, or otherwise Vortex would have dared ping the shuttle for permission to access his sensor net.

The hurt engine still revved at that. “Next time I’ll ask you what you’re planning before I allow anything like that,” Blast Off mumbled.

The ping hung unanswered between them. Vortex already expected Blast Off to decline it when the authorisation finally came.

The ‘copter blocked most of the input, letting it seep into him bit by bit. Slowly more information swapped over him and gave him insights to the shuttle’s state. He started re-rooting the signals, giving Blast Off’s sensor net a break from the pain and ache as he stole the sensations away, leaving the shuttle in a calm daze.

Vortex’ own pain level grew. Spots he didn’t have hurt, like the sore circuitry on Blast Off's lower arm, or the fragments of cracked tiles that dug into the sensitive surface at his back just under the heat shield.

In the end, it was a flood of pain, and Vortex wondered how the shuttle had endured it without flinching or complaining or screaming. It was intense, much more intense than Vortex had anticipated. He only wanted to be a good team mate and shut the gestalt program up giving the shuttle the chance to recharge while getting something out of this as well. He hadn’t thought he'd get revved up like this.

The grey frame heated under the assault of hurtful input. There was no way Blast Off wouldn’t notice, and Vortex braced for a disgusted comment as he tried to settle down and suppress his arousal.

That he was lying so close to the strong shuttle, feeling the thick plating of Blast Off’s arms against him wasn’t helping at all.

He needed distraction.

“Your heat shield has cracked,” he said, able to keep the static out of his voice.

“It has.” The shuttle’s voice was tense, perhaps trying to ignore Vortex heating up. At least the ‘copter could hinder his energy field from flaring although the arousal was very well readable.

“But you didn’t crash on it, did you?”

“No.”

Thoughts, he needed them, different ones than either the shuttle almost dying or the shuttle pinning him down. The sensations on Vortex’ sore plating made his rotors shudder, the image of what Blast Off would need to do to make him feel like that hard to repress. Pain crept through him, in waves whenever Blast Off vented air more deeply. It strained his cooling fans, and the cold air burnt on wires not fully repaired.

“Why is it cracked then?” Vortex wanted to know, keeping his optics on Blast Off’s upper arm.

“Hm.” It was a sound that usually came with a shrug, “There are several reasons for a cracked shield. Strong wind velocity, temperature differences or other anomalies one hasn’t seen before, crashing into a native flying being-“

“What?” Vortex interrupted.

“What _what_?”

“You crash into stuff during re-entry?”

“Well, it’s a possibility. Usually we fly at a very high velocity, even in lower atmospheres, at that speed, scanners do not always pick up smaller vehicles or organics…”

“Wow…”

“Did you never crash into a flying object?” Blast Off asked doubtfully, and caused Vortex to laugh.

“No. At least not by accident.”

Blast Off shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Through the interface, Vortex sensed him relaxing. The exhaustion took over eventually, and defragged images of old and newer memories were transmitted. It was then that Vortex noticed just how drained the other was, and how badly he needed some rest.

Some time passed.

They kept quiet till Blast Off was deep in recharge.

Vortex relaxed as well, and let the sensations charge his circuits. He wouldn’t do anything about it. It was an appealing torment which he could take care of later; maybe Brawl or Onslaught would help him with that.

With Blast Off’s systems settled down, his pain mingled with exhaustion.

Vortex shuddered once, shook out his rotors, and initiated his own defrag cycle.

\---

It was midnight.

Scavenger’s hands were occupied with spare parts and tools. He attempted to open the medbay door with his elbow, and was more or less successful as it did open, but he also lost hold of one of a larger metal part.

Trying to catch it with his foot, he winced. He only slowed the fall, but it still fell noisily in the quiet room.

Glancing around warily, he relaxed again when there wasn’t any angry revving of engines or reprimand.

There was only the shuttle and… Vortex.

Hadn’t they released him from medbay earlier today?

With a frown, Scavenger stepped closer, more careful with the parts this time.

Blast Off was finally in recharge, and the two Combaticons were connected. The ‘copter’s frame was warmer, but he was also unconscious.

Tipping his head to a side, Scavenger smiled as a scan told him they were connected in a non-erotic way.

Maybe there was still hope for their gestalt.


End file.
